


Trouble Sleeping

by Regency



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: (MAtB haunts us all.), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Midnight Conversations, Multi, Nightmares, Polyamory, Post-Movie(s), Prompt Fill, Slice of Life, Spoilers for Bridget Jones's Baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: Three parents to one baby should make resting easier, shouldn’t it? But there are things that go bump in the night that aren’t just monsters under the bed and they’re keeping Jack awake.  While his family sleeps, Jack worries and keeps watch.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elletromil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: '[Mark/Bridget/Jack where Jack is the one with #8 I had a nightmare about you and I wanted to make sure you were okay](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com/post/151713468665/so-i-know-i-already-gave-you-one-already-but-if)' on Tumblr.

Mark stared blearily at Jack in the dim kitchen light, his hair in disarray and plastered to his temples.

“I have a full day tomorrow, as I’m sure you know, and you want to have hot chocolate at 2 am?”

“I…yeah.” Jack hadn’t thought the ensuing conversation through before he pulled Mark away from a snoring Bridget to join him in the kitchen. But the light was better here and he could see that Mark was fine in here. He was all in one piece.

Mark seemed to read his thoughts on his face as he switched from complaining to taking charge almost immediately.

“Right. I’ll warm the milk. Get the chocolate.”

They went about preparing cinnamon nutmeg hot chocolate with quiet synchronicity of years-long partnership. Just a couple of years, but long enough to have a routine. Mark handled the warming of the chocolate (he had the patience to make sure it didn’t burn on the range) while Jack warmed the milk in the microwave and poured it into the burbling sweet when instructed (he was the steadier of the two when sleep-deprived). Once done they poured the concoction in three mugs, certain as they were that the smell of hot chocolate would rouse Bridget from her slumber before long.

Mark followed Jack to the sofa and they sat in silence until their drinks had cooled.

“Now, do you want to talk about what’s kept you awake?”

“You know I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“You haven’t stayed in bed more than half the night in weeks.”  Neither of them mentioned the fact that he hardly slept if he remained in bed with the two of them. He had his reasons for preferring to keep watch.  “Is something bothering you?”

“Nightmares. They’ve been reoccurring for about a month. They’re getting worse. They must be.  I don’t want to keep you two awake, so I come out here.” And paced for the most part. Sometimes he took to his tablet to research whether the things he dreamt about were even feasible. When that offered him no relief, he resorted to pacing to work off his nervous energy. From their bedroom to Will’s nursery to the front door in an agitated loop. The only way he could be sure his family was safe was by watching over them personally. If he slept, how could he be sure?

Mark drank to give Jack some time to sit with his confession.  Jack was the more emotionally open of the two of them, so if this was something he felt he had to hide, his nightmares must have been serious.

“What do you dream about?”

Jack worked a mouthful of hot chocolate over his tongue. He wanted to talk about this. Talking about it seemed to be the only hope he had of getting past his nervous preoccupation. At the same time, he feared that talking about his nightmares would bring them to life.

“You die.”

“Doing what?”

“Saving the world.  You go somewhere dangerous and get caught in the crossfire.”

“I’m not exactly stepping onto battlefields on a regular basis.”

“Not usually, but you have to admit that some of the places you’ve gone have been more unstable than others.”

“That goes without saying.  The nature of my work requires me to be physically present.”

“Which exposes you to risk.”

“I don’t deny that.  But you can’t deny that I could just as easily die crossing the street as being elsewhere.”

Jack firmly shoved that idea into the box of horrors he’d try not to dream about tomorrow night.

“Sure you could, but what are the odds that you will?  Cars don’t scare me. Cars and random motorists don’t have any reason to gun for you.  Corrupt political figures who don’t like what you have to say? You’re an easy target for elimination is all I’m saying.”

“I’m also largely anonymous until I start filing paperwork. That’s all I am at the end of the day: a paper pusher with a god complex.”

“I thought it was surgeons with the god complexes.”

“Don’t be fooled, there’re plenty of them to go around.”

Jack swallowed more hot chocolate to keep from saying anything.

Mark, in an uncharacteristic display of emotional intelligence, read his reticence for what it was.  “I’m perfectly protected wherever I go, darling.  You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I do worry about that.”  Jack rubbed his chilly hands up and down his mug. “I worry about what would happen to us if you weren’t here.  I worry about how this family holds together. You’re the grounding force, Bridget’s the backbone. Without the two of you, I don’t know what happens to me.  It’s all I can think about.” Was it selfish? Entirely? That didn’t mean he could help it.

“If by some grave misfortune, I wasn’t here anymore, you’d have Bridget. She’d have you. You’d both be there for our son.  I have full faith and confidence in your ability to see to them.  You’d keep them safe.”

“It’s not that simple.”  Jack ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. His dreams had become so vivid he had to stop watching the news.  Innocent civilians died all the time for conflicts that barely had anything to do with them. Mark chose to walk into those situations, to get involved of his own volition.  He painted a target on his back because that was who Mark was.  You could love a person for being brave and still wish they’d duck now and then.  “You’d leave a hole, you know, a void.  It doesn’t matter who else tries to patch it up or fill it, there’d be empty space where you’re supposed to be. Like some real life wound.  I guess that scares me.”

Mark scooted his chair closer to Jack’s. Their legs entangled under the table. _Mark is here, right now. Hold on to him._

“Is it just the dreams or are you worried they just might come true?”

“I wish I knew. I’d tie you to the bed for the next year if I didn’t think a year and a day later you’d amble into the path of an oncoming tank.”

Mark laughed sharply. “I’m not exactly protesting in Tienanmen Square. I visit prisons and courts. I read government documents. I speak to political figures and political dissidents. I look after people who need protecting.”

“You look after people who need protecting from their own governments. By definition that pretty much makes you the enemy of those governments.  Who protects you from them?”

“You’ve obviously had your fill of Tom Clancy or John Le Carre novels.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“What would you like me to say?”

“That you’ll think about that the next time you agree to go somewhere you could be hurt.”

“You’re really convinced something is going to happen to me.”

Jack shrugged and finished off his rapidly cooling chocolate.  “Call it a gut feeling.” 

“I could cut back on my trips abroad. There are certainly enough abuses close to home to handle. Not necessarily at my pay grade, but a case is a case.” Mark covered Jack’s hand on the table.  “I wouldn’t knowingly risk leaving you. This isn’t me disregarding what you’re saying, this is me taking stock. For you, for William, for Bridget.”

Jack allowed for a small smile. This was the best he could hope for.  Who was Mark if he wasn’t trying to right all the world’s wrongs?  “If it’s any comfort, I think Bridget would be okay someday. She’d find a way around it. She’s strong.”

Mark agreed. “The strongest.”

“But she shouldn’t have to be _that_  strong, Mark. Be careful. Be safe. Come home. Come home to _us._ I’m not trying to replace or find a replacement for you. There’s a reason this works, the three of us. It has to be the three of us, or it’s none of us.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it. Get it through your thick head that there are three people in the world who’d be…wrecked without you, and come home safe.”

Mark settled a hand on his shoulder and kissed him across the table.   “Okay.”

Jack lacked Mark’s ability to hide how rattled he was, and he was far more open in displaying his need for reassurance. Conversely, Mark had a gift for for providing that reassurance. Jack soaked up Mark’s touch, his hands on his jaw, his lips chapped and catching on his own, the absent bumping of their noses together.   _He’s here. He’s real. Don’t forget any of this._   Jack had near-perfect recall of every word he’d ever heard or read, every image he’d ever seen, and every tactile sensation he’d ever experienced. He wouldn’t forget Mark Darcy. He couldn’t, on pain of death.

Jack let his feverish mind rest, let Mark drive the dark thoughts away for a while. Their hot chocolate went cold, ignored. By the time Bridget appeared Jack was in better spirits.

“I’m trying not to be offended that nobody thought I needed hot chocolate at-” She checked the wall clock. “3:30 in the morning?! Why are you two up?”

“Talking.”

She looped an arm over each of their shoulders.  “All right?”

“Bad dreams,” Jack supplied in tired resignation. He didn’t want to talk about them. His nightmares shouldn’t become hers.

Bridget clucked sympathetically and draped herself over Jack’s back to kiss his hair.

“I was trying to reassure him,” added Mark to her deadly chastening look.

“Did it work?”

“More or less.”

“Mr. Silvertongue here allayed my fears.”

“Well done, Mr. Darcy.” Bridget popped a kiss on Mark’s forehead as she went to help herself to her portion of the no-longer-hot chocolate. She gamely microwaved it to warm it back up and offered to do the same for theirs. Mark took her up on it while Jack demurred. He was bone tired and he thought there was a chance he might be able to rest this time.

He dropped by Bridget to kiss the back of her neck. She giggled and accepted a hug from her place at the sink.  He squeezed Mark’s shoulder in passing, only to be stopped by Mark catching his wrist. Mark kissed him goodnight properly, teeth nipping gently at Jack’s lower lip and letting go.

“Sleep well.”

“I’ll try. Don’t be long.”

“We won’t be,” Bridget answered on behalf of both.

Jack headed back to bed.

* * *

 

Mark rose to dispose of his empty mug in the sink. Bridget took a half-step sideways to make room, but not, he noted, enough to avoid his brushing up against her. Mark caught her the waist to pull her back against his chest. She grinned and leaned back into his arms.

They stood without talking for a few minutes.  Mark could sense her thinking troublesome thoughts, trying to order them to ask what had been bothering Jack and was now bothering him.

Mark yawned softly and was quite thoroughly reminded of the hour. While he was fortunate enough not to have court in the morning, he did have a symposium to attend and he’d prefer to be moderately rested for it.

“I’m knackered. Join me?”  He was hoping her questions would hold till the next evening, though he didn’t have much hope of that. Once Bridget decided to have a serious conversation, timeliness was of little concern.

Bridget put down her steaming drink to cover Mark’s arms with hers..  “There’s nobody like you, you know that, don’t you? I couldn’t fill in the blank with just any man. It’s you and him, or it’s no one, so you bring your gorgeous self home self every time. You understand?”

He smiled and propped his cheek against her. “Eavesdropping, Bridget?”

She huffed in indignation.  “When the men I love are worried, I’m worried. And since neither of you thought I needed to be involved, I involved myself. Don’t act like you didn’t notice me before I came out.”

Mark chuckled soundlessly.  He had thought he heard her conspicuous brand of lurking.  “We didn’t want you worried. I wasn’t sure what he was going to say. I thought he was having second thoughts. If so, I wanted to, I don’t know, soften the blow for you.”

She turned in his arms.

“That’s very Mark of you.”  She reached up to her thumb over the creases between his brows, thereby easing the tension there.  “Still, married people face fear together. So, come and get me next time.”

He pulled a face at the note of censure in her tone.  “Even if it requires interrupting your beauty rest?”

“You know that answer to that.”

“I love you very much, did you know that?”

“I did,” she whispered, conscious as he was of the hour, “but feel free to say it every day for the rest of our lives, just so it sinks in.”

“I’ll add it to my day planner.”

They shared warm chocolate-y kisses till Mark felt every bit as heavy and sluggish as he had first out of bed.  Bridget was the first to withdraw.

“Come on, I think Jack could do with a Jones-Darcy cuddle-and-snog before bed.”

Mark and Bridget joined Jack in bed, where he was just clinging to wakefulness.  The ensuing cuddle-and-snog was very effective at soothing all their newly-spoken fears.  Whatever might happen, they were together now. They had each other. Said cuddle-and-snog thus completed, the Jones-Darcy-Qwant residence descended happily back to sleep.  

There were no nightmares this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on Tumblr at [sententiousandbellicose](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from any incarnation of the Bridget Jones series. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.


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